His body feels weightless. Technically, it isn't—it's more like a sensation of backwards acceleration. Like inertia. Dick's hands—an outward force—cradle him up horizontal before the one on the middle of Wally's back removes itself. The air thrusts itself out of Wally's lungs a moment later, whooshing out through his lips with little noise as his costumed back impacts the thin, protective mat on the gym floor.

Wally chokes in a breath when his head joins the impact and there it is… the premeditative temperament of Dick's smirk. "You have now experienced a chokeslam." He adds intently, "or 'nodowa otoshi'."

A wheeze from below. "So.. when did this turn into a Japanese lesson…?" Wally questions, voice straining as his lungs fight back for oxygen. His recovery rate kicks in and the fifteen-year-old grunts, aiming a front kick for the kidneys of his sparring partner. Dick backflips out of its path, avoiding Wally's leg attempting to hook one of his and laughing quietly while on a one-arm handstand. Wally arches in his back still firmly planted on the duo-hued mat, gritting his teeth and springing himself onto both of his feet. Grinning widely, the speedster motions two fingers, curling and uncurling them. "Come at me, bro."

Dick's smirk cracks apart, the tip of his pink tongue jutting out mockingly. A flurry of movement.

The holographic wrestling ring inside the second-floor gymnasium comes in handy; added bonus, the cushioned mats prevents brain rattling. And, you know, there's privacy from an distracting audience too. Wally grasps his red-gloved fingers tight around the Robin cape, swinging the other boy in a circle to throw him off-balance and makes a confused noise when it releases from Dick's shoulders soundlessly, fluttering useless between both sparring teens. With the brief distraction, something hits him in the precise midpoint to the back of his left knee and Wally's bladder screams.

That's flippin' it.

Dick's fighting style interchanges each opponent he faces but not completely—there are some things Dick can't change (like the lack of extreme muscle mass to his spry, athletic build when facing down the baddies like Bane). He ends up adapting to the situation and then forces it to adapt to him once he's analyzed it and turned it around. Batman friggin' knew what he was doing when he picked Dick.

Even when the speedster is tossed back against one of the ring's glowing corners, Dick seems a bit less steady from the forehead blow. Those familiar, red-and-black fabric legs straddle uncomfortably against Wally's torso and chest. Uncomfortable because… aah, well, Wally's cup isn't loosely fitting anymore. What did wrestling shows call this move—bouncy bronco?.?—…god, THAT doesn't sound dirty…

For the record, he doubts that Dick in his cup is more pain-free when the first, slower kiss exchanged between them shifts into another hungrier kiss, the fronts of Dick's teeth sharply clinking with another set. "Ow," Wally complains, lips mashed against Dick's when gauntlets tug into his red hair, yanking, "…-Owow, shit! Rob!" he sucks in a breath when Dick sits up, angrily panting, "I'd like to not go bald?"

A snicker. "Want me to still teach you the reach around?"



"…we're not talking about wrestling anymore, I'm guessing," Wally mumbles, sliding his gloves over Dick's thighs and clasping to hold them there. "Not that… I'm upset about it or anything."

Dick responses dryly to the slightly gloating facial cast, leaning back over, "I'm sure you're not. Hold up…" he begins addressing an invisible presence, "Computer System: Authorization–" Wally's mouth drifts underneath his jaw, biting down gently on exposed flesh, "B01 Override C-Code…jesus, DUDE, will you just let me do the command—?" Dick shoves Wally's shoulders against the wrestling ring's corner, earning him a disgruntled look. He repeats with less patience, "Computer System: Restart Command. Authorization B01 Override Code 184 Security Lock. Holo-Simulation Terminated."

The holographic ring dissipates from existence and Wally once again finds himself on his back to the gym mats, only this time with Dick's weight adding pressure to his stomach.


A groan. "What was that for?"

"Shut up already," Dick tells him, resting his palms to either side of the speedster's head. His expression arranges neutrally when Wally burps loudly in his face and cringes faintly. "…You're lucky you're hot."

"You need to get the hell off my stomach or somethin'."

The weight falls instead to Dick's knees and arms. A hidden zipper to the Kid Flash suit drags partway between the ridges of Wally's shoulder blades. "This help?" A suggestive note.

Wally's arms wind around his companion's waist, hugging him close and flipping their positions quickly. "This does," he replies, letting go as Dick fiddles with his utility belt. "Sure we're not getting caught?

"I'll make up something about a security glitch—mm—" Once the belt is removed, once their gloves and gauntlets are thrown off, Wally's bare hands roam over the curve of his ass before coming back towards the front of his leggings. Dick's breathing hitches. "—need updates f-for… ohh," the younger whines, when Wally's fingers slip warm under his jock cup to stroke his balls lightly, "…nnn- merde…"

"Now THAT definitely wasn't Japanese or English." Wally snorts, lowering his lips under Dick's ear, mouthing, "Whatcha got for our breather? Carrying anything special in your Bat-belt?"

A pleasured rumble escapes Dick's throat. "You mean…" he breathes, "Uhh… I've got hand sanitizer in the eighth compartment."

Green eyes roll exasperated, focusing as the acrobat peels away his mask—vividly blue eyes blinking. It's enough to erase any withering in Wally's erection. His cup needed to come off. Now. Wally's fingers return to the open, the tips glistening with pre-cum, and he works his costume off. "Oh, I'm glad we came prepared," Wally grumbles, "Seriously, do you have anything that would actually work for sex?"



Dick confirms, "Don't worry, it's girly scented."

It's a sort of abnormally chummy smile on his face. Nothing at all to be trusted.

"And… why would I want my ass crack to smell like girly lotion?" Wally asks him cynically, shoving off the one-piece costume and wiping his fingertips to his naked, muscular side.

"Probably better than what your ass crack usually smells like."

"I clean in there, DICK," he snaps, using his real name like a pissed curse word—worth the fleeting, visible eyebrow twitch when Dick hesitates from fishing out the necessaries from several belt compartments. "…okay, no, seriously, why the hell don't you pack any lube? The stuff you can get that isn't labeled?"

An embarrassed glance.

"I don't need Alfred asking questions."

"He doesn't question the condoms?"

"…you know what," the thirteen-year-old insists, sitting up and working his leggings down towards his knees in a cross-legged position when Wally moves away, "He's never said anything and I don't think he wants to know—Hey, I really don't think we should do hands and knees for this." Dick grabs a freckled shoulder. "It'll reek on the mats. Do you really wanna give away what happened in here?"

"Then how are we—oh," Wally gulps audibly when a pair of arms tugs him close. His legs kneel as he settles up above Dick's lap, reddened penis only semi-trapped between their abs.

The click of a popped cap; a squirt of liquid from a bottle, and there's an overpowering smell of citrus. "You're forever tight, right?" Dick cackles, one of his cold and slicked fingers pressing in.

"Wh-what?" Wally gasps, suppressing the urge to arch away from the bodily intrusion and trying to relax himself. His molecules begin to whirrrr from the anticipation and the mild, accustomed pain.

Another cackle. Another long finger, slowly stretching him for the third and necessary one. "You really are gonna be the Forty-Year-Old Virgin."

It's one of Dick's tactics since they've done this a handful of times— Wally can't center his thoughts on the pain if he's too distracted with being irritated.

He's thankful for it however; it works.

"Fuck you."

"Few more years," Dick reminds him, working him, working him deepdeepinsidesogood, and Wally's panting grows softer as he cums the first time on their chests, slightly on Dick's hand between them. "Then I'll bring Arty and we can double-team you." A long, openly affectionate kiss on his flushed neck—Dick's mouth feels nice; he doesn't know when the third finger had been inserted but they leave him empty. "How's that?" whispered to his sweat-beading, pale skin. Dick busies himself rolling on his condom, using the fingers that had gripped around Wally's spent cock to hold him open as he rocks against Wally's opening. They're still new to this; Wally's body refused to let Dick entirely inside him. But they're both more patient than others would believe them to be, and they have opportunities to practice.

Blood fills his penis again, sliding against the wet, rough material of the Robin tunic. Wally's hips ride the building thrusts of the smaller cock— halfway in this time, and he laughs shakily along with Dick. He wraps his arms around the other boy's neck, burying his nose into the clothed shoulder inches from him. His ears catch Dick's mild, praising murmurs accompanied by the moaning of his name and the fleshy noises of intercourse. The citrus smell is fading away with human musk and sweat. Maybe it was weird to anyone else but Wally's sure there's a form of bliss to being taken, being fucked so lovingly-…


Wally raises his head from Dick's tensed shoulder, watching as blue, ecstasy-feverish eyes tic up a size at the computer's declaration.

The acrobat pauses for a few seconds to collect his thoughts, clutching at Wally's narrow hips. "Computer System: Authorization B01. Terminate Online Status," Dick recites aloud.


He groans, not out of agreement but out of frustration.

"Y-you gotta be kidding me!" Dick scrambles out for his abandoned gauntlet, powering on his wrist computer. "This is not appropriate timing. This is totally expropriate."

Wally's heart thuds panicky against his ribcage.

"…What's going on?"

"The system's noticed the cameras are down and auto-booting—uugh to run again. I'm working on it." Dick waves him off to concentrate on tapping out a sequence of numbers and letters, though his companion gawks at him with horror, though he's still deep and fully erect inside Wally. "Access to Database Code 112: Terminate ahh-Unknown Command Line."


Dick's teeth bare themselves as he snarls to no one particular, adjusting his legs crossed, tap-tap-tap. "What do you mean 'system error'? I'm in the system! This is sooo not happening!"

The movement adjusts Wally firmly connected, and a new surge of pleasure shoots through the speedster as his prostate is nudged heavily. So close. Wally's hips jerk. "R-Rob—…"

A low, heavy warning from the younger boy, "Wally, if you cum right now, s-so help me—"

"Then stop humping me!"

"You can stop clenching!"


The wrist computer automatically powers down with the succession of its task. Dick lets it dangle from his fingers, falling onto the mat, falling, and Wally yanks him over— faster than the gauntlet's impact. Their mouths collide gracelessly and Wally ruts with some helplessness, muffling a yell as he cums a second time and basks in the following sensation of Dick's own orgasm radiating.

Maybe 'patient' wasn't exactly the word to describe them.


Kreetchur from Tumblr managed to tempt me right into taking the prompt: "Dick/Wally – fighting/sparring/wrestling leads to sex" aaaaaand she wanted it underage (plus, is her b-day! -hugs- Yaaay!).